


Bane Of My Existence

by simonspeaks



Series: Carry On Countdown 2017 [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, at watford, coc 2017, first off i want to say i'm sorry, it's very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonspeaks/pseuds/simonspeaks
Summary: based off of the prompt: at watford





	Bane Of My Existence

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first fic for carry on i ever wrote

I feel a tug in my gut. The iron in the Crucible must have melted in the fire by now then. I follow the tug, leading me across the courtyard and past the tall fountain spewing water down its shape. I feel something else in my stomach, which for a moment seems to overpower the tug. Butterflies. What will he look like? Is he going to be funny? Nice? Will we become friends? My pondering stops when I realize who’s walking towards me. Simon bloody Snow. I continue walking, but slower now. He can wait. My intestines feel like they could rip out of my body and fly towards him. Would that kill a vampire? Probably.

Snow stands in front of me, persisting voicelessly that I shake his hand. I hold back.

“Snow.” I say.

“Yeah,” he says, continuing to try and get me to shake his hand. His tug must be as strong as mine. It’s making me want so badly to shake his hand. Not yet, I tell myself.

“The Mage’s Heir.” He nods. I bet he doesn’t even know what that means. What a Normal.

・・・

Simon bloody Snow is the bane of my very existence. I swear he keeps following me wherever I go. Class, ZAP! He’s there. (Though it probably doesn’t help that we have the same classes.) Lunch, ZAP! He’s there. Catacombs? ZAP! (It’s really more of a sense that he’s chasing me around like in a game of cat and mouse). I hate him with the same burn of my heart that longs for him. I hate him. The prick. I want to punch him. In the face. Repeatedly. I want to see him fly down the staircase like last year. Anything to remove him from my life, even for just a moment.

Sharing a room with Snow is bloody horrendous, even more so this year, due to the fact that he won’t leave me the hell alone. I need space to think, and Crowley, he won’t even give me a second of time to myself. If I could banish all thought of him I’d have only a few moments more.

In my spare time I can’t help but think of his lips, plump and pink, and the moles all over his back that drive me insane. I want to ghost my lips and fingertips over them and then smack him across his perfect face. He’d probably go running to the Mage.

After dinner, at which I don’t eat, instead grabbing two rolls, green beans, and a slice of turkey, and wrapping them up in a cloth, I walk the grounds until dusk arrives.

I can feel Snow behind me. His magic seems to send off waves. Maybe that’s why everyone seems to like him. He seems like the sun and you just want to get as close as you can, except it’s not real sunlight but it feels the same. Minus the blinding part.

That is, until he goes off: he’ll be flustered, all pink in the face, and then suddenly he’ll start glowing, with fire wrapping around him, usually starting at his sword that he carries around. If you’ve seen him try and use spells then you’ll know why. If there was a sword fighting class he’d probably be the top of the class for a week. That would certainly be an improvement on Snow’s part.

I whip through the Catacombs trying to simultaneously get him off my tail and grab a couple of rats on the way to my mother’s resting place. I wind through the tunnels until I know I’ve lost him. When I come to my mother’s grave I sit down on the cold, hard ground. I gobble down the rolls, green beans, and turkey quickly, using the napkin to clean up around my mouth.

Next are the rats. I pounded them against a wall earlier, so they’re fully dead now. If they weren’t could I turn them into rat vampires? I shudder, banishing the thought. “I’m sorry,” I mumble to my mother’s grave as I drain the rat. “I’m sorry.”

I hear something fall near the entrance of the tunnel. Leaping to my feet, I’m given mere seconds before someone with golden curls and blue eyes bursts into the room.

“I knew it!” He says, pointing his dimming torch at my hand with the rat still in it and the specks of blood around my mouth.

“Knew what, Snow?” I sneer.

“You’re a vampire!”

“Bloody good job at figuring out. Do you want a fucking medal?”

He steps forward, arms full of tension, fists curled. “Sod off.”

I throw my rat at him and it hits him on his chest, sending specks of blood all over his shirt and neck. I want to lick it off and kiss him all over. He’s stunned for a second then hurtles towards me, fists raised. Bloody hell, not this again.

I sidestep his blows with ease, taunting him. “How’s that friend of yours? Bunce, is it? It’s a shame you two aren’t dating.” I pout.

“Why would you care, you sadistic vampire?” His voice softens. “Besides, I’m dating Agatha.”

“Oh.” is all I can manage before he takes another swing at me, hitting me directly on my nose. I go flying. When I land I feel my nose. It’s bent in an awkward way; he must have broken it. I’ll have to get that checked out tomorrow. He’s gotten a lot stronger since the last time we fought.

“How’s the Mage’s pet, hmm? Done anything special this year besides get in trouble?” I spit up at Snow, who’s now standing right above me.

“I’m not the Mage’s pet!” He cries. Snow sits on my torso and takes another swing at my head.

“Oh really now?” I say teasingly, moving his target point to the left. “And I’m not a vampire.”

He goes off. And it’s beautiful. Scratch that, he’s beautiful. He’s all light and fire, and Crowley, I want to bury my face in the crook of his neck and drink him in. Not his blood, just the feeling of him. He needs to stay alive, no matter the cost.

That’s when I’m reminded that Snow’s on top of me, surrounded by fire and vampires burn. I can feel my torso start to fry, and I decide if I’m going to die anyway I might as well make it so Snow’ll bloody remember me for something other than “plotting against him”.

My whole body is being licked by flames, which grow higher and higher. This doesn’t seem to affect Snow, who’s still swinging at my head, now hitting me almost every time.

I bring both of my hands up to the back of Snow’s neck and pull him down, my lips crashing into his. Crowley, this is loads better than in any of my dreams. Minus the burning part.

I flip us over so that I’m laying on his chest, with flames wrapping around me, and I can feel myself disintegrating like the paper I know my body is. I lay there kissing him until only my torso and up is left. I lay my cheek on his chest, hands playing with his messy curls.

“I love you Simon Snow.”

I burst into ashes made of dreams and hope and death.


End file.
